Page 71

Thomas sits atop his mount and meditates over the valley from the western ridge. The weather is finally turning chill. A permanent chill. The signal that winter will soon be setting in. Warmer days will be few between now and the first snowfall.

It was two moons ago when Thomas first rode upon this valley, first rode into Maplebrook, looking for someplace to winter. He knew little of the community — only its name and relative location in these rolling hills, along with the names and locations of a few others. These he gathered from Macke during an always-too-short goodbye after Thomas completed his work in Tilamook.

A rolling stone gathers no moss, and Thomas self-consciously examined his cloak and tunic, amusing himself by brushing briefly at imagined debris, before resuming his contemplation.

The first village was over a week’s ride from Tilamook. Thomas originally planned to ride a circuit of all five communities before deciding on where to settle for the winter. This is why he rode on from Timberlodge, two days to Oak Grove, and rode on yet again.

But when Thomas crested this ridge on that late summer afternoon, and saw how the angled sunlight played across the treetops…he was entranced. Great, mature, healthy woods – maple, oak, and cottonwood – their boughs full of vibrant leaves. The way the shadows and highlights caused each tree to stand out in stark relief, yet preserving a forest still – yes, he was captured.

Sitting where he is, on the ridge, Thomas turns his mount, stares over his shoulder to the west, then back again to the east. The same trees, same contigious forest. But the valley to the east of him was somehow far superior the land to his west. Maybe it is the subtle shaping of the bowl of the valley. Maybe its the way the trees have grown up around the streambed at its center. Maybe there is no answer.

Thomas had nearly floated into Maplebrook, so enamoured was he. There he found the village just as charming. A community of wood and stone, for they quarried the local limestone for their own needs. A balanced, self-supporting community which farmed both grain and meat, traded fur and wine, smithed their own implements. A strong, warm, open community which appeared to greatly respect the woods which protected and provided for them.

He contacted the local officials, and made plans for his residence that same day. He has since travelled to the other two communities in the circuit, as a part of his duties. Thomas earns his place in the community by escorting trade caravans and using his animal and nature lore.

Now, as leaves fall about him like a pre-emptive jest of snow, Thomas shrugs his cloak in place over his shoulders, and starts his mount down into the valley. There are still many tasks to be completed before the Autumn Festival begins tomorrow evening.